Category: Sexy Reads

Sexy Reads – Desire Unexpected

Together, Ethan and Nadia find the kind of pleasure that could keep them satisfied for a lifetime. Her love may be the key to putting both of their lives back on track, but to what end? When a man he’s been contracted to kill threatens Nadia’s life, he forces her to face reality. Either they’ll delve deeper into the desires neither expected or they may die trying.

Excerpt

“It reminded me of you.” He shook his head. “It’s just from the museum gift shop. I wanted to give you something for putting up with me. I hope you like it.”

“Thank you.” She took the little box and sat on her battered sofa. “Please, take a seat.”

He sat next to her, but kept to the edge, confirming there was nothing relaxed about this visit.

After slipping the green ribbon from the box, she pulled off the lid and pushed back the tissue paper, revealing the item she’d so long desired. Her heart raced and she scooted closer to him. He had no idea what he’d done. Her secret crush giving her the piece of jewelry she’d long desired was incredibly perfect. Neither were really her style and she wanted them all the same. She looked at him with heavy tears stinging her eyes. Brushing the box from her lap, she slipped the bracelet onto her wrist.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ve enjoyed our time together.” He brushed away the tear that had rolled down her cheek and cupped her chin.

“Don’t say that like it’s over.” She took a hold of his wrist and pulled it into her lap. “It’s not, right?” Panic raced over her. If he wanted to leave, she wouldn’t stop him, but her whole body hurt with wanting him to stay.

“I’m no good for you, Nadia.” He took hold of her hands. “You deserve a nice man with an uncomplicated life. I can’t give you what you need.”

“That’s not true.” She put her fingers to his lips. “Don’t.”

He took a hold of her shirt, not pulling her closer, just squeezing the fabric in his fist.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you.” She brought her touch back to his hands, trying to ease the pressure. “I just know the only time I feel alive is when I’m with you. You’re on my mind constantly.” She lowered her gaze, losing her courage by the second. “There’s something between us and I want to explore it. I want to know what drives you insane with need. Don’t you want me too?”

“Shit, Nadia, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the first day at the windows.” He let her go and pulled out of her reach to slip around to the other side of the couch with his back to her. “I want things from you that I’m certain would frighten you.”

“I doubt that.” Knowing she had to make her move now or risk losing him forever, she pulled her shirt over her head and tugged off her sweatpants, tossing them both on the chair. “Do you remember the questions I asked about you before we met?”

“You’re playing with fire.”

“No, I’m not into fire play, but I have a feeling you know what I need.”

“What …” He turned, his gaze swept over her body and he brushed his hand over his mouth. “You take my breath away.” He stepped toward her, adjusting the bulge in his pants. “You think you want to play?”

“I do.” She sucked on her lip, wishing she’d worn her one set of matching bra and panties.

“Fuck, I want this” He brushed her skin ever so slightly up her arms, across her chest, and down between her breasts. “I’ve had dreams about this moment.” He raised her chin, forcing her to look at him. He dragged his fingers through her hair and tugged the length of it back. “I want you at my mercy. Do you have any idea what it’s like to give someone like me control?”

“Yes, sir.” She arched her back, revealing her neck. He kept pulling and tingles of pain danced along her scalp. “Please.”

“Are you already asking for mercy?” He tugged her hair again “I don’t think you know what you’re starting.”

“I don’t want you to stop. I want more, sir.” Her breasts pushed against his chest and her grip on his arms tightened. “I want to know.”

Where you can find DESIRE UNEXPECTED:

Evernight Publishing | Amazon US CA UK

Barnes & Noble | All Romance eBooks

WHERE YOU CAN FIND BOOKS BY S.J. MAYLEE:

Evernight Publishing | Amazon US CA UK | Barnes & Noble | Nook UK

All Romance eBooks | BookStrand | Smashwords | iTunes

Images courtesy of S.J. Maylee

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July 22, 2015
Sexy Reads – Lost Faith

Is it better to have loved and lost than never loved at all? For Ty and Trent Jamieson, the Grey River pack Alphas, they would say either would be preferable to both!

Excerpt

“Oh God!” Faith groaned, or rather tried to, but it was difficult to understand given the fact that Trent had his tongue down her throat. Wanting to be an active participant in what was proving to be an explosive first introduction to ménage sex, Faith sucked firmly on his tongue and plunged her hands into his hair. Her ears were ringing as her body flew toward a precipice she knew that once she flew off, she would never be the same again.

Ty suddenly plunged a finger into her cunt and rubbed an unknown place within her that sparked such pleasure she tore her mouth from Trent’s with a scream, and her body began to tremble violently.

“Fuck yeah, baby, Ty’s found it, hasn’t he?” Trent growled against her neck as he continued to fondle and pinch her nipples, heightening her pleasure. “Ty’s totally hit your sweet spot.”

“You have no idea just how sweet she fucking is, Brother,” Ty growled against her pussy as he added another finger and continued to rub her in just the right spot, the trembling increasing to the point Faith was sure she looked like she was having a seizure. Her body felt like it was hurtling toward something big. Faith needed something to help her, but she just didn’t know what.

“Ty, please!” she sobbed, desperate. “Please!”

“Anything, Faith, for you, anything,” Ty rasped before he swirled his tongue around her clit, then sucked it into his mouth, gently biting the swollen nub. Faith threw her head back and screamed as an orgasm the likes of which she had never felt before overtook her.

“Oh fuck yeah, baby, do it, come for us,” Trent groaned and growled against her neck. It seemed to crest again as Ty continued to plunge his fingers into her sopping pussy and sucked harder on her clit.

All too soon, the tremors slowly began to ebb, and the world began to fall back into place. Faith could hear not only her own harsh breathing but the constant growls of the man still steadily licking her and lying between her spread legs. She could also feel Trent’s hot, harsh breath against her neck.

Suddenly Trent moved away from her, and Ty’s form loomed up and over the top of her. His mouth glistened with the juices from her own body, but what caused her to almost stop breathing was the look in his eyes. As if he were on the edge of complete insanity, an insanity she had caused with her response to him.

Of their own accord, her legs wrapped around him as he settled in the cradle of her hips, the hard, blunt head of his weeping cock pressed against the swollen folds of her pussy. He held himself above her on arms that rippled with muscle and restraint.

“Faith, I have to take you.” Ty’s voice was slightly garbled, and Faith knew that his wolf, stronger than most due to his alpha status, was fighting for control.

Faith would have dearly loved to believe that the reason for that was because of the mating heat and Quickening, driving him to complete their mating with her by biting into her shoulder, marking her as his for all time and for all to see. But she knew that wasn’t the case. If they had experienced the Quickening, it would have been years ago when they first met at the diner. As she understood it, the Quickening was so powerful that wolves could barely control their reaction to their mates, and they certainly couldn’t hold back from it.

No, this was not the Quickening. It was simply affection and intense desire that drove Ty’s wolf forward.

“Then do it, Ty,” she whispered as she lifted her arms to wrap around his shoulders and urge him to her, gently rolling her hips in invitation. “Take me.”

The words had no sooner left her mouth than Ty thrust home, filling her with his cock. Both of them threw their heads back and groaned at the sensation.

“Fuck, Faith, you feel fantastic.”

Faith gripped Ty’s shoulders and held on as he started to move within her, slowly at first and then with more strength and power. He fell against her, kissing her with a passion that left her breathless. She could taste her own salty musk on his lips, but that simply added to her pleasure. Oddly, the thought of tasting him and his brother flew into her mind. God, she would love the opportunity to take them into her mouth and learn them with her tongue. She wouldn’t stop until she had taken every drop they had to offer.

“Hell yeah, you would, Faith. You would take every damn drop, sweets,” Ty growled against her lips.

Faith started to wonder how Ty knew what she was thinking, but then he added a twist with his hips when he slammed home, which ground his body against her rapidly swelling clit, causing all thought to evaporate.

Links to purchase Lost Faith:

www.bookstrand.com/lost-faith

Lost Faith [Grey River 1] (Siren Publishing Menage Amour) – Kindle edition by Maia Dylan. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

Follow Maia on Amazon here: http://www.amazon.com/Maia-Dylan/e/B00WPO0GNA/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1

Images courtesy of Maia Dylan

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July 15, 2015
Sexy Reads – Forbidden

“Bestselling Romance Author Kiki Howell provides a taste of the sun, sand, waves, and a certain sexy as hell male body no woman in their right mind could resist, in this mainstream romance novella. Take a cruise with Forbidden and meet Mr. Tall, Dark and Mysterious as he provides Samantha with her greatest adventure yet, in the bedroom and out.”

Excerpt

When the door clicked behind her, his body moved to hers like a magnet. His strong hands rubbed down her back, over flesh and then material, to stop just above her ass. He pulled her against him, fierce, showing a loss of control that excited her. Looking up, her heart feeling like it was in her stomach made the butterflies there flutter with more determination. His hair, now free of the rubber band, framed his face with silky curls. One wild and unruly section of strands covered his left eye, while several others fell over his right shoulder. Jacket and tie already gone, the open buttons of his dress shirt revealed the chiseled muscles of his chest she’d already imprinted in her mind.

“Can I kiss you?” he growled, the gravely tone of his voice savage and wonderfully unsettling.

The serious lines etched in his face broke for a second into an unconscious smirk before relaxing back into their natural state of tempestuous scrutiny, like he was on the edge of some fantastic discovery. At this moment, she knew he wanted to explore her. The knowledge of that fact sent a cool shiver down her spine, one soon doused by the heat rapidly building in her core.

When words failed her, his brows furrowed, his lush, black lashes semi-covered the stormy look in his eyes. She steadied her hand by running her finger over the course hair of his moustache. Following the thin trail of hair past his lips to his chin, she settled on the small patch just below his bottom lip. A perfect triangle within a perfect square, the hair tickled her fingers, alighting every nerve ending until she throbbed, wondering how his face would feel rubbing over the sensitive skin of her mound.

His blood-red lips open again, this time his mouth fell into a full smile. She dared to touch his lips, finding the skin warm and soft. Still grinning at her like a tiger about to devour prey, something primal and maybe even sinister lurking in small upturn of his lips, she startled when he nipped at her finger.

“You’re stalling, denying yourself. Why?” he questioned, his voice deep and sultry, devouring her senses.

She merely shrugged, letting her other hand fall to the hard lines of his shoulders, and then drop to the dip at the base of his neck. This move kept her hands from rubbing over the chill running over her arms. Her shawl, now a puddle on the floor, didn’t have that much to do with the intense shivers crawling over her skin.

“I scare you?” He frowned, his voice deeper than usual. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“In the best way,” she finally got out. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’d never been with someone like you. Stormy. Untamed. Strong. Dark… I don’t know how to put it. The mystery you are to me, rich kid, but not spoiled, smart and strong, intense and loving. I don’t know what kind of lover you’ll be. I guess that excites me as much as terrifies me.”

“I’ve no chains to tie you to the bed with, though, if you’re expecting that, I could surely improvise such a thing.” He laughed, a slight sound that resonated a playful hint at the base nature of violence.

“With thoughts of dark overlords or the mafia when I look at you, I can’t say some capture fantasy hasn’t snuck through my mind. Whatever you do, don’t treat me like some breakable woman, this faerie or angel you’ve spoken of.”

“The faeries and angels I create are badass, tough, able to take on the roughest, most rogue of warriors.”

“Good to know,” she got out, despite the hitch in her breathing.

He moved her hand, still on his face, to the side as he leaned in to kiss her. Brutish at first, his lips pressed to hers in that intoxicating line between pleasure and pain. His hand moved up to curl into her hair, grasp a handful and use it to tug her head back, gaining him more access, leaving her more exposed to his wiles.

His lips and teeth scraped down over her chin to her neck, feasting there until she felt he’d take a chunk out of her flesh. Instead, he nibbled. He sucked. He licked over the red and warm skin he’d created.

She grabbed at his arms to hold herself upright, his muscles bunched under her palms. Her fingers tried to dig in, to hold on, but there was no give to the sinewy mass of man she had hold of. As if he sensed her plight, his free arm circled her, pressed her against his body, holding her upright as her shaky legs failed to support her.

A curvy, lightly muscled woman, she felt light in his grip. What she had of female softness melted up against all his rugged edges. And then, he let her go. With a shake of his head, he stepped back from her until he stepped out of the shadows of the entryway into the light of the bedroom. Standing up straight, his shoulders squared, and his feet planted firmly on the ground in an open stance. He appeared to be holding himself back from the verge of attack. With determined movements, he reached out for her hands and lured her further into the room.

The sliding glass door on the far side of his cabin stood open. Another broken rule, the sign on the door posted that due to air-conditioning with central controls the doors to the decks had to remain closed to conserve energy. The sound of the water rushing against the fast moving ship added to the sense of danger that hadn’t let go of her, had kept her pulse racing since she’d started toward this forbidden room.

“May I?’ His hands toyed with the straps of her dress.

“No,” she answered, her shaky voice now steady. She’d found an allure in standing up for herself, taking what she wanted, too, in the face of such a beast. She’d never backed down before, never relinquished control, and she didn’t want to start now. She wanted not to tame this beast, but to control him like a trainer would, with respect for the danger the animal posed, while admiring the beauty of his wild strength.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke, his voice so deep she could barely make out the words.

“Don’t be. You first,” she demanded, standing up straighter herself.

“I see.” He huffed, a twinkle in his darkening eyes.

“No, I want to see.” She smirked.

Closing the gap between them, she took to unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way. Moving her hands over his broad shoulders she pushed the silk aside, let it fall to the floor. He stood like some statue of a Greek god come to life, only with a light bronze skin tone and the sharp lines of black tattoos. Up his arm, from wrist to bicep, the jagged lines appeared like flames. Softer and shorter versions of the same aimed downward from his shoulder, more flames in a war with the first, battling it out for space over the bulging of his arm muscles.

This same look of fire licked around his six-pack abs, framing them, but never letting the ink mark an inch of the perfect definition of his waist. That illustrious v-taper of muscle that stood out just about the waist of his pants had ink on the left side only, dark flames that came from under his pants, followed the definition of his trim hips. His belt pulled tight, remained the only reason they were still on.

“More,” she demanded, her arms rigid at her sides.

“Feisty. I like it,” he growled, more animalistic than before.

Yet, he obeyed. This thrilled her even more, to have such control over one so malevolent and brutish. She rode the high as he undid his belt with determined movements. His erection sprung up strong when he pushed his pants down past his hips. They soon hit the floor with a whoosh of material that sent goose bumps traveling up her arms. Unashamed, and why should he be, he stood still, controlled, only the bunching of his muscles, legs, chest, arms, gave her any hint of just what it took to remain as he was.

“You’re perfection,” she breathed out.

“I’m glad you think so. But, how long do you plan to make me just stand here like some statue in a museum? I’m not really perfect. And, I want you.”

“You can wait. I’m an adventurer, remember? And, I have this need to explore such unchartered territory. Besides, I think I’m getting off on controlling such a dark beast as yourself.”

“If that’s some challenge, then test me. I play games to win, so give it your best shot.” His voice steady, deep, daring.

“I plan to.” She matched him, her voice at full volume, unwavering. The only hint of trembling came from excitement, not fear now.

If this were an episode of Survivor, he’d be the island, beautiful with hidden dangers, and she’d play the game with confidence, and play it well, until she discovered where each gem and pearl lie hidden. She wouldn’t be voted off this island.

Moving in, she stood to the side of his outstretched cock, careful not to touch it just yet. She traced her fingers over the tribal tattoo, as if she could find some veiled clue as to the man in his markings. If she could just read between the strong, and now trembling lines, she’d discover just what made him tick, and then make him hers for life. The errant thought gave her only a second’s pause before she stepped behind him.

The dragon on his back looked about to fly away. Again, abstract, tribal in nature, there could be no mistaking the mythical creature and the power it held. Her hands now flat on his upper back, she kissed the head, and then the tips of the wings of this guardian image. The full symbolism of the creature suited this man.

He groaned deep in his throat as her hands ran over his skin to his rock hard ass. The muscles flexed and then relaxed, letting her press with her fingertips until small white circles formed around her fingers. Lowering to her knees, she kissed him, bit him, and licked him, as he’d done to her neck, being consumed by the sensations even as she practically devoured the man. Her heart racing now, her stomach a tight coil, she followed each whim, kissed every inch of him she felt possessed to explore.

Moving around to the front of him again, she took his length into her mouth, as much as she could handle, and felt the strain of a smile from her otherwise occupied mouth as she heard the catch of his breath in his throat.

“Are you trying to kill me,” he hissed in a raspy voice, barely able to speak.

His fists clenched by her ears, he obviously strained to resist touching her. Good beast, she thought as she let his erection fall from her mouth. Moving in under his wet cock, she took in the scent of him, all male, light sweat and some faint scent of soap. His balls hung heavy, but she nudged them with her nose before she caressed them with her lips. The taunt line of flesh between his legs she kissed, nuzzling into the most intimate part of his body. Her hands on his massive thighs, she felt the muscles there contract and shake.

Whatever possessed her now, she gave into the raging, feral, impetuous drive. Kissing down the inside of his leg, she moved to his feet. Strong, thick, solid with veins now popping out on the top of them, she bowed of her own accord, and kissed all the way to his toes. What the hell, she had no problem worshiping this god of a man. Not tonight. She had no problems at all.

She looked up at him, the whole of his body raged, each muscle tight with more veins bulging, as if he’d just finished a workout, a thin sheen of sweat glistened over his skin. Coming to stand, she took a few steps back to admire her work. The full body display he gave her, erect, tall, tight, stood juxtaposed to the waving of the soft, sheer curtain behind him.

A rumble of thunder in the distance silenced the vicious crashing of the waves for a second as the boat ripped through the stormy seas. The energy of this, the sheer, white-hot thrill of the entire situation, gave her an electrified shiver that sparked a primitive need deep inside her to be taken, to unleash the monster she’d help create before her. Make up your mind! She wanted it all. One night would never be enough.

Pushing past the dismal thoughts of the unknown future, with trembling fingers she moved the straps of her dress off her shoulders.

“Stay,” she warned him, when she saw his biceps bunch.

The sound that ripped from his throat was unrecognizable. She could only describe it as a small roar of frustration. She fully understood. Mimicking his stance, she undid her bra and slid off her panties in two quick motions, luxuriating in the feel of the silk rushing over her skin. His eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. His breathing rumbled from his chest in tumultuous waves of sound.

When a streak of lightening lit the sky behind him, she released him with a phrase that made her giggle slightly as she braced for the impact.

“Release the kraken.”

Continue reading Forbidden by Kiki Howell at the following links:

Amazon http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00TJI5L58

Barnes & Noble https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-forbidden-1758604-149.html

All Romance Ebooks https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-forbidden-1758604-149.html

Naughty Nights Press http://naughtynightspress.com/nnpstore2/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=6&products_id=121

Image courtesy of Kiki Howell

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July 8, 2015
Sexy Reads – Theirs to Claim

While FBI special agents Gabriel McPherson and Noah Johnston are away closing in on yet another child predator, the woman they’ve secretly loved for years is home, in their small north Georgia town, dealing with the crushing weight of an unknown stalker of her own. The fiend sends Emily Matherson photos weekly, growing ever bolder over time, showing an interest that sends a clear message of need and dominance. When Gabriel and Noah finally realize what has been going on in their absence, it will become a race against time to protect Emily her own predator, while also finally claiming her and making her theirs, at long last.

Excerpt

Emily lay on the sofa with her eyes closed, sure that she was in bliss. Her head was in Gabriel’s lap, and he was slowly trailing his fingers through her hair. She could feel the sun’s rays on her skin, even though it was streaming in through the barrier of the window panes. Still, it was like giving a person who’d been locked in solitary confinement the keys to the prison yard. It warmed not only her skin, but also her soul.

Noah joined them on the sofa once he’d cleaned the kitchen and he took his place at her feet. He got comfortable, settling his large frame down on the plush fabric cushions, then he slipped first one of her socks off and then the other. He lifted Emily’s left foot and began a slow massage that made her jump and open her eyes.

“Steady,” Noah chuckled. “I know you’re ticklish, Emily. I’ll be gentle.”

“Lie back down and close your eyes,” Gabriel said softly.

She nodded and tried to lie still, though she couldn’t help but flinch each time Noah’s adept fingers ran across her instep. A rumble of laughter rolled through Gabriel’s chest, and she narrowed her eyes at him in return.

“Close them, Em,” Gabriel warned in that stern tone that made shivers run down her spine.

Emily could tell that he knew exactly what effect he was having on her when he used it, because his lips pressed into a firm line with just the tiniest hint of a smile pulling the right corner of his lips up. It made him look masterful and completely in charge. And something deep within Emily responded to that.

“Yes, Gabriel,” she whispered. Emily dutifully closed her eyes, but not before she caught the fire that flashed in his blue eyes.

He dug his fingers into her scalp, intensifying his massage. Taking over and letting her know he was most assuredly in charge of her for as long as she’d let him. Emily decided not to hold out on them, but to voice her response. Hadn’t Noah said he wanted to hear the words? Well, Emily thought, maybe they both wanted to hear every breathless sigh that their touch produced too.

She tilted her head back in Gabriel’s lap and blew out a heavy breath. Her back arched and Emily pressed her right foot against Noah’s inner thigh, curling her toes just a bit. She listened intently and was rewarded when she heard him groan softly. Oh, this was so much better than watching them while she got them hot and bothered, Emily thought. She felt a little bolder with her eyes closed and she liked the freedom it won her.

Emily slipped a hand under her t-shirt and gradually ran her palm over her stomach, then upwards towards her left breast. She circled her nipple again and again until it stood in a rigid peak and then she began to pluck at it, teasing the pleasure point until she started to squirm between them.

Her breath came out in shallow puffs, as her hand left her breast and skated down her abdomen. She delved into her shorts and found her clitoris, rigid and alert to her touch. Noah pressed hard on her instep just as she touched her clit and cried out.

She felt Gabriel’s hands leave her head and he clasped the hem of her shirt, then he rolled it up and off of her. Noah’s hands abandoned her foot and he reached for the button on her shorts. Emily lifted her hips when she felt him tug the garment, and soon it was a thing of the past too.

Both men drew in an audible breath, and Emily felt sure it was because she had skipped wearing any underwear after her shower with Noah. It had just felt decadent to go without, and she liked the awareness of her body it had brought. Every time she moved, the cotton of her shirt had abraded her nipples and her shorts had rubbed her clit in such a way as to keep her constantly aroused.

She’d said nothing throughout breakfast, but now they knew. And from the sound of their labored breathing, Emily thought that they were not disappointed by their discovery.

“Keep your eyes closed, Emily,” Gabriel directed.

“Yes, Gabe,” she said again, smiling as she uttered the compliant words.

His hands covered her breasts, gently kneading the mounds and pushing them together. Noah’s fingers ran up her legs at the same time, seeking and getting closer to her own hand. He clasped her wrist and slid her hand down to her side. Ever so slowly, Noah pushed her thighs apart.

Emily arched up again as she felt Gabriel pinch her nipples and Noah blow warm air across her pussy. She reached for them, her left hand colliding with the solid wall of Gabriel’s chest. But Noah was just out of reach. He halted her seeking fingers midair and placed her right hand back down on the sofa, tapping her wrist and letting her know she was to keep it there.

“Guys…” she panted, suddenly needing to see them, to connect with them in some other way.

“Shhh,” Gabriel corrected her. “Eyes closed or we stop.”

Emily whimpered, but nodded. She had started this, but quickly lost control of the game. And now they were going to finish it. Or her, she thought ruefully.

But she trusted them, and she needed this. Needed to let go of all the worry and anxiety that had plagued her life for over eight weeks. And if ever there were others who knew her needs, inside and out, it was Gabriel and Noah.

She’d grown up fast, dealing with the loss of her parents and then her grandparents. And though she’d had Gabriel and Noah to lean on, Emily had never had them like this. Not really. Not as her partners and her lovers. Never shared what they could now.

Yes, Emily said to herself, it was time for someone else to make the decisions.

So, she drew in a deep breath and gave herself over to their care. She gave herself over to the moment and with her surrender, Emily found true freedom. The kind of freedom she hadn’t experienced not just in the last two months, but in all of her twenty-three years.

Gabriel stopped breathing the moment Emily’s body went soft and yielding. He had never analyzed why he liked control in the bedroom. Never acknowledged that darker edge of what he really craved, yet had not explored with another. He’d never felt comfortable taking the reins in such a way, for fear that the few brief partners he’d had would think he was overbearing, unfeeling, or uncaring.

But in that one glorious second, he got it. As if someone had just dropped an anvil on his thick head. It wasn’t about control at all. It was surrender. For them both.

He watched all of the tension and worry leave Emily’s brow, the lines easing away. Her breathing calmed and her muscles relaxed. It was a supreme moment of trust. And that was the key. It was all about trust. The reason why he’d never felt for another, what he did for Emily. He’d never trusted them enough or himself to let them in, or to truly let go.

God, he loved this woman. Loved that he could be himself with her, without fear that Emily didn’t want what he was offering. He could be a cranky bastard at times, he knew. But normally Emily would just chuckle at his bluster and give him such a sweet and honest smile. One that reached her eyes – one that came from her heart.

It was the same smile that now graced her lips as she lay there stretched out between him and Noah, completely giving them her body. Her heart. A lifetime of her love. Her everything.

Trust was a two-way street, and Gabriel knew he’d never gotten what it was all about, like he did in that one moment.

Gabriel’s eyes lifted from Emily’s body to meet Noah’s gaze, and he saw the same shock and reverence reflected there. Noah arched an eyebrow at him, and cocked his head to the side, his fingers no longer exploring her delicate folds. Gabe knew that Noah realized the significance of the moment too, and was just as committed to not destroying the trust Emily had just placed squarely in their hands.

With a slow nod from Gabriel, they began again. But this time, with a totally different objective. This was no fast race to completion. This was slow, sensual love-making at their direction.

Continue reading Theirs to Claim at the following link:

http://www.amazon.com/Theirs-Claim-Predatory-Desires-Book-ebook/dp/B00VLIGZ1S

Image courtesy of Diana McKinley

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July 1, 2015
Sexy Reads – Dai’s Dark Valentine

What happens when a sheltered cat-shifter and a dark fey come together? Born in 18^th Century France, Daitre is a beautiful, naïve heiress whose true heritage has been kept secret, even from her, but now that her abilities are emerging, her father’s enemies want her dead. When Joban, professional guard and dark fey, agrees to marry her, he whisks her three-hundred years into the future, but their enemies have followed – more deadly than ever.

Excerpt

“Breathe, Dai! You’re forgetting the first thing I taught you. Where’s your head today? Were you not standing next to me when Auriel said our enemies are not only murdering us at will, but capturing and doing studies on us?”

Daitre lowered her arm and replaced the gun’s safety. She took an anxious breath. Since their brief moment several days ago, he’d seldom looked at her, distancing himself whenever she tried to get his attention for anything other than training.

“Am I training you too hard? You’ve done well all week. What’s different today?”

“Stop yelling at me! I’m just tired. Don’t you think I’m already scared enough? Do you think I want to be murdered, captured, treated like a lab rat? We’ve gone from two times a day to three times a day, I’m running, sparring, you’ve taught me to pick a lock, jump-start a car, and I’ve learned to use every weapon on that table of yours in just over a week. You told me yourself I learned so fast I must be a natural, but I need more than training to live. I need more than survival training. I’m human, Joban, and you seem to forget that…you always have.”

“Everything I do is to keep you safe, Dai, and you are not human. Time is not—”

She turned swiftly, put the gun back in its place on the table, then left the basement without another word. Once again, he missed the point. She needed his attention, his acceptance, his love.

Screaming in her head demanded she return to him, follow his instructions, do whatever she needed to please him, but her instincts won out when she reminded herself that more of the same on her part would produce more of the same from him, and she desperately needed something different.

Daitre stepped into the bedroom bath and dashed cold water on her face to keep from crying, Auriel’s words running through her mind. The fear of being captured, poked and prodded by her father’s enemies haunted her.

She hit the light switch, stepping out of the bathroom with every intention of going straight to her bed for a much needed nap, but as she passed his make-shift bed, she couldn’t help stopping. Daitre sat, tentative at first, but the deafening silence in the room urged her on.

She lifted his pillow to her face and rested her cheek against it, his cinnamon and woods scent prompting her to inhale deeply, eyes closed. The mere scent of him triggered a reaction in her body, causing her to stretch, savoring the pleasant tingle zinging straight to her clit and flashing outward again, a delicious warmth infusing her body – arousal.

She dropped the pillow and jumped up, eyes wide. Joban stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable until his mouth covered hers. She knew he’d used his time-bending ability because she hadn’t seen him move. One moment he watched her embarrassing display from the doorway, the next he was on her, his huge arms wrapped around her waist, lips claiming hers.

Her mind raced but her body responded on instinct, clinging to him, writhing to be free of every and anything separating her from him. As if he heard her plea, Joban released her long enough to respond in his usual dictatorial manner.

“Take these off.” He used his eyes to stress his meaning, stoking her fire with a head to toe gaze, stormy gray depths offering a glimpse of yet another side of him she longed to explore further. She removed her dress with one hand, the other in contact with him at all times, sliding along his torso, tracing his Adam’s apple, gliding around to the muscles at his back. She’d wanted to touch him like this for so long. Now that she had access, she didn’t dare let go, fearful he’d change his mind.

Finally, she stood before him naked, grateful for the scarcity of clothing women of this time wore, skin burning as her inner lioness pressed outward, raring to pounce. Joban bent just enough to wrap his forearms around her thighs and lifted her from the floor as he stood, her head and shoulders above his.
Her lioness stretched against him, placing her hands on his broad, muscular shoulders to brace herself.

Joban wrapped one arm under her buttocks and placed the other hand at her back to support her, sliding his tongue around her belly button and dipping it inside before allowing her to glide down his torso, her long legs wrapping around his waist automatically as she reached eye level again.
He carried her to the bed and gently placed her in the center, his knee between her thighs.

He rose and removed his T-shirt, angry red tribal tattoos making him even more irresistible, drawing an inner roar from her jungle cat.

She brushed his dark hair out of his eyes, always just a little too long in the front, and he caught her wrist, lifting it to his lips to place a kiss on the inside.
Daitre raised her other hand to frame his face, prominent cheekbones and hard, masculine jawline giving at her touch, his entire body heated, coiled, and she lay back, satisfied in knowing he would take complete control. Her cat purred, pleased for once.

Joban did not disappoint, leaning down to nip her neck and shoulders, then blazing a path of tiny circles with his tongue from the tiny hollow between her breasts to her trembling navel, hungry for his invasion again. The texture of his tongue on her soft skin burned, the sensation new and exciting, like wet, fine sandpaper, preparing her, molding her.

His movements pierced the intense silence, the wispy sounds of crisp sheets, skin sliding against skin, and her gaze fell on the tiny nuances of his muscular back, every movement, every vibration increasing her need to feel him inside her, thick and hard like the rest of his overpowering body.

She understood the intensity and nature of her desire for him in that moment. She wanted to be consumed by him, taken passionately, thoroughly, something she’d never imagined let alone wanted before she met him.

Read more about Dai’s Dark Valentine from Dariel Raye at the follow links:

Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | Smashwords

Dai’s Dark Valentine Trailer

Image courtesy of Dariel Raye

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June 24, 2015
Sexy Reads – Katie in Love

After Katie Boyd meets the young volunteer doctor Tom Bridge at a party, the sex is intimate, passionate, life-changing. When Katie in the coming weeks feels as if she is falling in love, she is not certain that it is what she wants. Her reflections on life, friends, education, her tastes in music and literature, is a search for who she is and where life might lead if she follows him to Sri Lanka where Tom runs an orphanage.

Excerpt

If you add the shadow of death to a moment of passion you are in that instant free of all normal ties, your mind grows still and your body enters a state of non-being. Pleasure and pain, sex and death, yin and yang are mismatched twins, two fish each containing the eye of its opposite.

I wrote that sentence before my morning appointment with the doctor. It means nothing in isolation but I awoke with those words in my head and committed them to paper – the keyboard, the monitor. The winter is cold, bleak, colourless. There are no clouds, no sky, just a grey blanket like a shroud lowering over London.

The little finger on my right hand has a fracture. It is painful. The doctor spent a long time with my hand like a song bird nursed in his palm, his shirt cuff clipped with an onyx link, the gold face of his watch gripped by the strap nesting in a hairy wrist. Broken fingers are oddly intimate.

‘You do look pale,’ he said.

‘Yes, I noticed in the mirror.’

‘Are you sick?’

‘Yes…’

He squeezed my good fingers. ‘Do you want to tell me?’

I sighed. ‘I write, you know, books…’

‘Ah,’ he replied.

He nodded wisely. He understood. Writing is a sickness, an ailment, an addiction. When I’m not writing, I’m thinking about what I have written that day and, when I do go to bed, I lie sleeplessly thinking about what I am going to write when I get up and start again the following day.

I am a night person, an insomniac, the girl at the bar who looks like she should have gone home and maybe has no home to go to. A false image I cultivate. I am thin, theoretically attractive, in an abstract sort of way. I have hollow cheeks, high cheekbones, long legs, perhaps too thin, lips dry with cold, clotted with gloss. I have stopped being promiscuous and compose my work in the dead hours between two and six while London sleeps and the night planes follow the Thames into Heathrow carrying businessmen and migrants hoping to make it in the greatest city on earth. When you are bored with London you are bored with life. That’s what it says along the side of the number 19 bus Mother takes to Peter Jones.

When I do sleep, I sleep badly, in spite of the magnets under my mattress that are supposed to orientate my body north to south so the lay lines and dragon lines pass through the invisible portal at the top of my skull and down to my feet, my best feature, I would soon be told.

I have worked as a tutor, in marketing, and for a women’s magazine, which involved writing captions for interiors and combat with photographers fixated on depth and apertures. Regular working doesn’t suit me, it interferes with writing, and now I earn my rent as a waitress at corporate events where the high priests of the City banks congratulate themselves by drinking buckets of champagne and falling over. The change of job meant a dip in my salary, so I moved, from West London, where rents cost the earth, to East London, where the cost is broken streets, a fall and a fractured finger.

It was the finger that saved my life.

The story begins on New Year’s Eve. Having dumped Julian, an actor with floppy hair and lots of good teeth, I went with a girlfriend I don’t particularly like to a tartan-themed charity ball in a kilt too short and my little finger bound to its partner in blue tape. There is something oddly poignant going to a ball with another woman and she must have felt the same way, abandoning me, as she did, for the first hairy-kneed faux Scotsman to say och aye the noo over the long candle-lit table.

After dinner consisting of haggis, which I didn’t eat, I danced alone on the fringes of the swaying crowd like a stray swallow chasing the migrating flock.

A man appeared.

They usually do.

Men in the 21^st century are no longer hunter gatherers. They are game players, artists, sculptors. They see me across the rainbow of fiesta lights as a blank canvas requiring their signature in a gooey splash of scribbled jism; a column of alabaster that needs to be reshaped, their sculpting hands eager to rid me of my clothes and go to work with their carving tools. I could be perfect, just perfect, if I only gave them the chance. The man, this shimmying shaking dancer, is wearing tartan socks, plus fours, like a lost golfer, and a Tam o’Shanter that gives him the earthy, intense look of Che Guevara.

‘Dance?’

‘I am dancing?’ I answered.

‘That’s not dancing, it’s just moving about.’

‘I have a bad finger.’

‘Not a very good kilt either.’

I liked him immediately. I can’t stand men who say nice things as they push back their floppy hair.

‘Drink?’

‘That’s very generous of you, seeing how the bar’s free.’

We drank whisky.

‘Twelve year old malt,’ he said.

‘You know about those things?’

‘No. I’m just flirting with you.’

‘Honesty can be very unattractive,’ I said and he shrugged.

‘I know, it’s so hard to do the right thing.’

‘Or know what it is.’

He tossed back his drink. So did I. He refilled the glasses. My eyes prickled as I swallowed the fiery fluid and the band silenced before a drum roll. A man leapt on the stage, the skirts of his kilt like a sail, and announced in a Highland accent…

‘Twenty seconds…’ He looked at his watch, paused, then counted backwards: ‘Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…’

And we kissed.

Continue reading Katie in Love by Chloe Thurlow at:

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Link for Amazon books – http://bookgoodies.com/a/1503014908

Image courtesy of Chloe Thurlow

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June 17, 2015
Sexy Reads – Sated

Sated is a dark MMFM paranormal romance with scenes some may find disturbing. After a sizzling night with a rock star, Arbor finds herself trapped in a world that no longer feels real. In a desperate hunt for answers, she seeks the help of Detective Trey Murphy, the man in charge of ritualistic crime in the New Orleans area.

Excerpt

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

Killian was fascinated by the scene playing out across the bar. He’d had one eye glued on the tiny blonde since she walked through the door. If there was one detail he could point to in order to explain his captivation, it was that she didn’t fit in. Thank God. Her innocence was almost tangible when set next to the other occupants of the hardcore gothic club.

“How about I just sit with you, then?”

“No, thank you.”

Killian leaned forward in his seat, even going as far as to set his elbow on the bar and cup his chin—openly staring. Not only was she not giving the guy the time of day, she hadn’t as much as glanced in his direction to see if she might be interested. On the other hand, the dude couldn’t seem to look away from her. That made two of them. Killian was engrossed.

“Are you sure? You’re going to need someone to walk you out. This is kind of a rough joint.” It was. Killian would know.

“I’m sure. Have a nice night.”

He really wanted her to look. The guy was hot, possibly the best of the lot. She had at least three women staring at her with open malice simply because the guy was talking to her. Showing a determination that impressed Killian, the dude braced one hand on the wooden surface beside him and one on the back of her chair, boxing the woman in. The invasion of her personal space forced her to acknowledge his presence. As if it were possible, Killian stared even harder. He was almost afraid to blink in case he missed her reaction to seeing who she’d been ignoring. She turned her head, meeting the man’s gaze. Not a single ounce of emotion marred her features as she eyed the guy’s blond hair, dark eyes, and muscles flexing on her behalf. The dude smiled. It was slow and obviously practiced. A dimple appeared at the corner of his mouth and straight white teeth gleamed even in the darkly lit club.

“I’m married.”

Killian chuckled. “Liar.”

She turned in his direction, meeting his gaze as if she’d heard him. Light-green eyes flashed wickedly. Her mouth turned up in one corner, as if competing with her gaze for top mischief-maker. Goddamn. No wonder the dude wouldn’t leave her be.

“So what?” The boy-toy’s response pulled her focus back his way. Killian caught himself lifting up in his chair as if he meant to physically reclaim her attention.

“There are two women sitting behind me who’d love what you’re offering. Enough to share,” she tacked on in an obvious attempt to sweeten the deal. Killian glanced behind her. Yep. There were. The dude didn’t look, but he did straighten away.

“They’re a sad substitute for you.”

A hint of a smile touched her lips. “But a substitute nonetheless. Have fun.” If she’d meant her dismissal to lure the man in further, making him want her more, then she’d succeeded. It was written all over the guy’s face. However, he did give in.

“If you change your mind…”

“I know where you’ll be.” She didn’t bother softening the blow with another smile. Killian was on his feet, pushing his way through the crowd and intent on reaching her before the dust settled in Mr. Studly’s tracks. He saw her chin tilt in the direction of where he’d been sitting, but he couldn’t see her face. He almost changed his mind. In the end, his greed won out, as always.

Killian didn’t give her time to deny him the way she had the other guy. Instead, he braced his hands against the edge of the bar on either side of her, caging her in. With her pinned in place, he nodded at the bartender to bring her another drink. She didn’t tense or turn her head as he crowded her body, inhaling her sweet scent and speaking against her ear.

“You should’ve taken his offer. It wasn’t a bad deal.”

*

A chill raced down Arbor’s spine, circling her body to tighten the muscles in her stomach and moisten her panties. Clenching her back teeth against the moan rising in her throat, she tilted her chin, bringing his face into view. Holy hot eyeliner. He was smoking. She’d never seen a man in eyeliner except for TV shows. Never in her wildest dreams would she have expected it to be so goddamn sexy. It turned out that when it coated sky-blue eyes that were attached to a chiseled face, she was on board. As she focused on his lips, which were heaven sent, she realized she hadn’t responded.

“I found his offer unappealing.”

“Why?”

“Because he doesn’t have sleeve tattoos and your English accent,” she almost answered. Unfortunately, in her attempt not to say it, she ended up blurting out something worse. “I have no desire to spend my night waiting for some man to leave so I can masturbate.”

He didn’t as much as blink. “What if I told you I could guarantee he wouldn’t have left you hanging?”

She lifted one shoulder. “I’m still not interested.”

“Why?”

This was—by far—the oddest conversation she’d ever experienced. She couldn’t stop. “There’s a difference between satisfied and sated. A subtle yet powerful difference. I want to be sated.” His lashes lowered until he watched her with a hooded gaze. An image of being on her knees as he took her hard from behind flashed across her mind. It was so vivid she almost pressed her knees together. Her body was burning. Even the brush of her clothing against her skin made her want to scream. A drink appeared in front of her, breaking the spell. The man working the bar disappeared before she had time to argue. Not to mention, any thought of doing so vanished as she watched one of the hands caging her in move toward her. His palm flattened against her chest, right under her collarbone, hitting the bare skin above her V-neck shirt. Her heart slammed against it. His fiery touch was innocent and undemanding. She wanted to obey his corruption. Her channel pulsed. His mouth touched the shell of her ear.

“We’ll see how much you mean those words. Enjoy your drink.” His muscles tensed. She knew he was going to move away.

“I’m Arbor,” she said before he could get away.

“Arbor,” he breathed, sounding like the wickedest of sinners and the holiest rendition.

Continue reading the rest of Sated by Charity Pakerson at the following links:

AMAZON KINDLE US – http://amzn.to/1u4QuZW

AMAZON KINDLE CA – http://bit.ly/SATEDCA

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AUDIBLE: http://bit.ly/SatedAudio

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Image courtesy of Charity Pakerson

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June 10, 2015
Sexy Reads – The Para-Portage of Emily

Emily Macque, a young, beautiful junior partner in her father’s law firm, is but a heartbeat away from love or destiny. Duty brings Emily to a frozen Island estate two hundred and fifty miles north of Chicago. Devotion requires she delve into the property history to settle an estate probate. Death lures her into the arms of the shadows seduction created by the flickering light and dark shadows.

What flames the timeless passions spanning the decades? Love, desire or obsession?

Colin Jorgenson, once a Great Lakes mariner, is a strong man haunted by love and loss. How long will he return each night, gripped by desire, hoping to find the woman he has loved for a century?

Beneath the pristine Island beauty, passions hungered, lingered in the ardent darkness. His passions, fueled by decades of loneliness and longing, could no longer be denied. Will they face eternity together or love in secret as dark things are to be loved between the shadows and the soul?

Excerpt

She whispered his name on the cusp of a plea for him to fill her, fulfill her, complete her as she rode the ribbons of heated release in his embrace. If not for him, she would never know the pleasure of such love, to be loved and adored, revered and honored by his love. Colin slipped fully between the legs of his ladylove and ran his hands full on the length of her sides, under her full and quivering buttocks allowing his fingertips to slip delicately trickling one by one into the crack that separated the alabaster orbs until they dabbled in the warm wetness of her welcome.

He changed position of his hands and raised the soft wet mound where her legs joined and put the treasure to his mouth as he parted the velveteen petals of her pride with his thumbs. He watched as she squirmed at the open display of her womanhood. He pulled the hood back from her erect and engorged clit then sucked it into his mouth as he rolled it between his teeth lightly, but insistently. He held her up to his face and mouth preventing her from any movement of her own.

Amalya’s whispers became moans which increased in volume and frequency until she was begging Colin to fuck her with all his might. She rode his face and pumped his head with her iron-fisted grasp of his hair, but he would not relent. He sucked and probed her pussy with his tongue and fingers until she was screaming with the same frequency as her breasts flagged her waves of response.

“Let go, my love. Let me taste your love and bounty. Let me drink from your fountain of life and only then will I give you what you want.”

Amalya rose up on her shoulders, unable to resist the flicking and pressure from his skillful tongue, his beard framing her most private abundance and she lost her control completely, screaming her release and requited passions into his mouth. Colin buried his face hard against her pussy as his mouth openly kissed her full flared lips and she came in waves of pure gold come as she emptied her love into his waiting lips. When the last wave left her body limp, Colin slid up her body, her legs caught on his chest by his arms and he kissed her deeply, lovingly as he slid easily past her heightened button and into her eagerly awaiting vulva so warm and wet.

Amalya felt Colin go into her deeply, so deep she felt the head of his cock slam the top of her vagina. He stopped, fully in her, filling her completely with his manhood and passion and she felt the pounding of his heartbeat, the pulse of his life, in the head of his cock buried inside her. It was like a fuse that touched off a series of explosions and contractions that sent her totally over the top, panting, begging, pleading, promising, praying for relief. And when it came, it was in uncontrollable gripping torrents of searing volcanic eruptions that scorched and ignited his response. Tonight, she would not taste of him; tonight she would feel him fill her with his molten seed. Tonight she would feel the head of his cock twitch against the heart of her soul with each spurt of his fervor, filling her with his need and sated passions. Tonight, he would warm her for hours—he would stay with her, heating her from the inside as their passions ebbed to embers.

Oh, how she loved this man! What pleasure he brought her. And to think, she fell in love with him when she was a child, the moment she saw him. She could never have known, when she was but a slip of a girl of ten, what this man who shipped for her father would do to her a decade later. She could never know what was in store for her body, for her life, for her heart with this wonderful man who had waited for her to grow into a woman. It was not until she was fifteen that she learned from her father that he promised her to Colin when she was twelve. When she turned sixteen, Colin started to ‘court’ her on his trips up the Saint Lawrence Seaway when he stopped at the Port of Montreal, where she lived, to pick up goods from Europe his clients arranged for him to transport on his ship.

She could never have known what awaited her in his arms. But, she did find out, with eager regularity. And she reveled in her journey into his life and his bed. The first time she ever saw him, he was talking to her father on their warehouse dock, which was a bustle of maritime activity between deck hands, dock men and crates, goods, food and bundles carts and angle irons and donkeys,. She ducked behind a bale where she would watch him unnoticed. Her heart fluttered whenever she was in his presence or he was near. He was much older by a dozen or so years, but it had not mattered to her—Amalya was in love.

And she loved him more now, more than ever. Her heart seemed to grow and swell every time he kissed her. It had been ten years since they wed and while their lovemaking never diminished, she felt a shallow longing for the child they had not yet conceived. But, every time it was like this with him, just like this, Amalya thought. This is the time our love was too strong and powerful this time.

She lay, now in his arms, her head on his broad, clean chest and sighed, thinking the same thing she always thought after their beautifully satisfying lovemaking waned. She would live to love him no matter if there be children or not. Whatever was God’s will Amalya did not question, because she was otherwise completely fulfilled and happy beyond all measure.

She sighed in his arms as he held her close, whispering her name into the flickering shadows created by the dancing flames of light and dark. The beard on his chin brushed against her forehead as he spoke of his love for her.

“This time, my beloved, this time. I know we have created a son to share our love with and bring into this world of ours. You need not ever worry that you will not realize your destiny, because tonight my love, tonight you have. I know it.”

Purchase the rest of The Para-Portage of Emily at the following links or under Muffy Wilson’s bio below:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Muffy-Wilson/e/B00O54A9EY

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Image courtesy of Muffy Wilson

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June 3, 2015
Sexy Reads – The Adventures of Cole and Perry

It all started when Cole met Perry in a bar. Over three years they had some exciting adventures, and misadventures. The six stories included in this book are all about their journey from bar to wedding. The stories included are The Anniversary, The Fight, The Threesome, The House, The Baby, and The Wedding.

Excerpt:

The ringing of the phone jarred Cole out of his silent contemplation of his apartment wall. Afraid of the outcome of the call, Cole had been dreading this moment all evening. If he didn’t answer then he wouldn’t get his hopes crushed. Again. Every time they made important plans, the arrangements got postponed or cancelled all together. This was the most important night for their relationship. If he didn’t hear the words he needed to hear then it was over.

A second ring brought Cole back to reality. On the small chance it was good news he would never know if he never picked up. One big breath in and he grabbed the phone to find out what came next.

“Yeah?” Cole’s voice was monotone, his lack of enthusiasm came out loud and clear. He wasn’t in the mood for pointless greetings or to dance around the subject. If only his boyfriend would get straight to the point.

“Hey, baby. I know you were excited to go out tonight for our anniversary but we’re going to have to reschedule. I’m stuck in a meeting and won’t be home until late.”

Cole let out his breath in a huge gust and slumped his shoulders. He didn’t have to wait for a response any longer. The future of his relationship would be very different than what he expected at the beginning of the night. Cole was thankful the last time he’d hear those words happened tonight. All of his feelings jumbled up inside of him. Part of Cole couldn’t help but be relieved to at least know. The nervous part of Cole took up the largest part of his emotions.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll see you later.”

“I love you, Cole. Are you–”

“I know, baby. I’m okay. I’ll see you later,” Cole interrupted. He didn’t want to hear his boyfriend’s excuses or justifications. Nothing his boyfriend said could change anything now. What happened next was already set in motion. He only wanted to get off the phone so he could get dressed.

Cole placed the phone back on the charging station without saying goodbye. He hung his head and closed his eyes. He loved his boyfriend so much. Two years together and it all came down to tonight. Cole hoped Perry knew what the phone call meant for their relationship. Now he just had to get ready to go out to the bar.

Continue The Adventures of Cole and Perry at:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00SC6RNLS

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Image courtesy of Amanda C. Stone

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May 27, 2015
Sexy Reads – Untouchable

Untouchable: Wealthy, Washington DC attorney, Carson Drake, is fascinated by public relations princess, London Chantelle. But hidden secrets and workplace conspiracy could crush this alpha male’s special weekend and his only chance at real love.

Excerpt

Carson herded London toward the private rooms. She stopped short when they reached a gothic-arched doorway.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Someplace more quiet.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Then you don’t have to.” He dropped his hold on her waist.

“Just talking?”

“Yes. Witnesses saw us leave. You’re safe.”

She let Carson pull her through the massive door, held open by a bodyguard. He moved them down an expansive hallway. Only after ushering her inside the last door at the end did he let go of her elbow. She immediately crossed her arms.

“It’s okay, sugar. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’m meeting someone.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, so I can’t stay long.” She worked her bottom lip and shuffled her weight from foot to foot. Her eyes also darted to the bed in the corner. Perhaps she thought he’d take her right away? She knew his identity. She should know he was committed to due diligence. And he had to know why she was here—the last place on earth he’d expect London Chantelle.

He sat in one of two cushioned chairs set before a lit fireplace. He appreciated her luscious curves, beautifully illuminated by the amber glow of the low fire.

“Sit.” He beckoned her to join him.

“I like standing.”

“Sit.” The commanding tones of a Dom brought the expected result. As she lowered herself into the chair, her ponytail licked one shoulder. “Your hair is beautiful in this light,” he said. “More golden brown than I noticed before.”

She swallowed. “Thank you, um . . . I go by Tatiana.”

“It doesn’t suit you. Why not go with, say . . . London?”

Her mouth dropped to an “O” in alarm, and she leapt from her seat.

“Sit. Down.” He pointed to the chair.

“Please.” Her hazel eyes implored lenience, and her tone of voice surprised him. He liked the beseeching quality. It was quite a departure from her customary unadulterated demand.

“Please what? You thought a simple mask and change of clothing meant I wouldn’t recognize you?”

“I hoped . . . maybe . . . I can’t do this.”

Before she could complete two steps, he’d risen from his chair and laid his hand on her shoulder. She stopped. He pressed his torso against her back, sending her firm ass into his crotch. He decided to like her stiletto boots. He was a tall man and they made her the perfect height. He waited to see if she’d object, at which point he’d back off. She didn’t move.

Carson pulled off the elastic holding her hair captive. A curtain of gold-laced chestnut silk cascaded free. He brushed her mane to one side and bared her shoulder. “That’s better.”

Her breathing sped up. “You said just talking.”

“Still, sweetness.” He inhaled her scent of Ivory soap and cinnamon Christmas cookies before stepping backward. “We are talking.”

She twisted to face him. “Carson, please . . .”

He liked how her emotions turned in an instant. She’d test his abilities to direct her psychology in a scene. He nearly laughed at himself. How quickly I have her bound and pleasured in my mind. “There. Now that’s a start. I rather like you begging me.”

“I don’t beg.”

And there goes that chin. “We’ll see.” He took another step back. His instincts told him she wouldn’t bolt.

“Take a seat, London.” Carson returned to his chair. “When you do, hands in your lap. After you listen to me you can decide if you wish to leave. It will be your choice.”

London hesitated, then nestled her behind onto the chair opposite him. She placed her hands in her lap. The thumb of one hand worked the palm of the other.

“Take off your mask. Show me your pretty face.”

London took a deep breath as her elegant fingers slipped off her disguise, pulling the fastening ribbon through her perfect hair. He wanted to capture her cheeks in his hands. He’d rub off the mask indents and erase the worry imprinted on her forehead.

“How long have you been without a master?” he asked.

“I-I’m not . . .” Her jawline hardened. “It’s none of your business.”

“That’s a shame. I’m good at business.” His mouth broke into a smile at the thought of bending her over her desk, papers sticking to her bared breasts, pens falling to the floor. He’d smack her ass with that leather portfolio she carried around like a shield. He wouldn’t stop until her engraved initials imprinted her skin.

“Why did you bring me here?” she whispered.

“You’re looking for a Dom. I’m a Dom looking for a sub.”

She flinched at his final word. “What do you want, Carson?”

What I want. Did it matter? He’d given up what he wanted long ago—a spirited submissive who matched his desires. Someone who might actually stick with him and not drop him the minute a better offer came through. He didn’t allow himself to think finding such a woman was possible anymore.

“Time. Willingness. Pleasure.” Carson folded his hands and laid his chin on his knuckles. “Now, I want to know what you want.”

“No, you don’t.”

Carson raised an eyebrow. “Toying with me will not get you anywhere, sweetness.”

“Isn’t that what you are doing with me?”

“Hardly.” Carson let silence take over the space.

“Then what?” she whispered after long minutes.

“Patience will be your first lesson tonight. Then I’ll consider you.”

“Consider me?” She gave him a hardened, fuck-off look.

“Yes. Last time. What do you want?”

He let a few seconds tick by. Then he stood. “If you won’t tell me why you’re here, what you seek, then I can’t help.”

“I-I didn’t mean . . . it isn’t easy . . .”

“You must answer my questions when I ask them. No delay. It’s for your safety and mine.”

Her lips pursed, her signal she realized she was losing. Her sassiness had its usual alluring appeal—futile, but adorable. She licked her bottom lip, the subtle move urging him forward.

“Stand,” he said.

She stood cautiously.

“What is your safeword?” he asked.

“Excuse me? A-a scene. With you? You’re a client. If anything ever got back—”

“Then we would both lose. And I don’t lose.”

“No, You take what you want and damn the consequences.”

“London.” Carson walked toward her and she backed around the chair. “What are you afraid of? Afraid you might get what you want? Experience what you’ve longed for?”

She let out a huff, but continued to retreat as Carson advanced. He sent her in a backward circle until she closed in on the canopied bed. Yes, most definitely submissive. The urge to discover how deep her desires ran raged through him like a brushfire.

“How would you know what I long for?” Her haughty chin jutted out.

“I want to know, London. Tell me.”

“Why?” She’d backed up until she connected with the bedpost.

“Fair question. And one I’ll answer. Given you and I dance well together at the boardroom table, why wouldn’t we here? Had I known your proclivities I might have offered. Why didn’t you come to me before?” How had he missed her signs?

“B-but you hate me.”

Now he was puzzled. “No, I don’t. You sometimes . . . irritate, but I could never hate you. Surely you noticed my tendencies.”

“Being a bully in a boardroom does not make you a Dominant I’d be interested in.”

“Ouch, London. That hurt.” Carson slapped his chest above his heart but kept his face stony.

“I didn’t think you could feel pain.”

“Everyone feels pain.” Her lips parted when he closed the last inch of distance between them. His thighs touched hers, and he softened his voice. “It pleases me you’re here. There’s no use in fighting this chemistry.” Carson hooked a thumb on his waistband. “One weekend.”

“With you?”

“Yes.”

“What will you do with your harem?”

He unbuckled his belt. “Your second lesson. Don’t force discipline with a smart mouth.”

“I don’t have that kind of time.” She raised her impertinent jawline—again.

Lesson three: discipline your haughty chin.

“Not enough time to learn discipline or not enough time, in general?” The loud rasp of leather yanked through his belt loops sent her attention to his torso.

“What are you doing?” Her panicked gaze shot to his face.

“I don’t have a collar on me.”

“I am wholly disinterested in being collared.”

“One weekend, London.” He grasped one of her hips with his free hand. “If you’re disappointed at any time, you can walk. I’ll never speak of it again. Our work together will go unaffected. No one—and I mean no one—but us will know.”

“Would you put that in writing?” Her eyes filled with mischief.

Priceless. London lured him toward a lightning storm. He could play. Hell, nothing appealed in the moment more than a weekend playing with London. Yes, this is what he wanted. Now he needed to know if she was willing.

“I’ll do one better.” He snaked the belt around her waist until the leather rested against her hips.

“I’m not a notch on a belt.”

“You could never be a notch, London Chantelle. You’re the whole belt, sugar.”

Her face softened, and the playfulness in her eyes died. He recognized the deliberation behind them, the wonder if she’d be safe, here and at work. London needn’t have worried. She might get scared, but mutual satisfaction was the only way his brand of sexual fulfillment worked.

“Say yes or no.” He pressed his torso to her corseted body, the last space between her body and his obliterated. “But say yes.”

“What will happen if I say yes?”

“What you want. What you’ve probably always wanted.”

Her eyes misted with a surprising vulnerability. “Yes.”

Don’t wait further to find out what happens next. Purchase the rest of the book here:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00V8CZ3KG

Note: pre-order discount price of $2.99 is available until June 2015.

Image courtesy of Elizabeth SaFleur

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May 20, 2015